Throughout the Years
by findafight
Summary: She hadn't always been called 'Canada'. She had had other names too; changing as her people changed. Her history was a long adventure that not many people knew. Fem!Canada as she grows from a cute little colony to a world super-power and the names people called her.
1. Vinland

**Disclaimer:** I don't own hetalia.

**Warning: **There might be some feels. but I'm not telling~

* * *

The little girl stared off as the ships left, leaving behind empty houses that she knew they weren't coming back to. A terrible emptiness filled her heart as the boats disappeared into the horizon.

As she turned to go into the forest, she saw a woman with long black hair and dark skin. The woman stared at her, gestured to the houses, then to her. The girl understood that the woman, whom she had decided was petty, was not just asking if this was her home, but more. She wanted to know if this _was _her.

Tentatively, the girl nodded. The pretty woman walked over to her and kneeled down so that they were roughly the same height. She asked "_What is your name, little one?"_

The girl didn't know how she understood the woman; she had only heard pieces of the native language before, but she understood completely. "Vinland" she answered softly.

The pretty woman gestured around again. "_Is this Vinland?"_ she nodded again and the woman continued, "_I do not think Vinland is here anymore. The people have left, haven't they child. How do you feel?"_

"_Empty,"_ Said Vinland.

The woman nodded sadly. _"Would you like to come and live with me, little one?"_

Her eyes widened and she nodded her head vigorously. "_Yes!"_

"_Then we shall call you…" _the woman looked Vinland up and down, felt her hair, and examined her tiny hands. "…_village. Little one, you are now the Village." _

Her eyes filled with tears as the emptiness inside her began to dissipate; it was still there, but it was much, much less.

The woman smiled and stood up. "_Come, I shall show you your new home,_" she said as she started to walk away.

The girl ran after her "_But wait! You know my name, but I do not know yours." _She noticed the new language rolled of her tongue as naturally as if she had spoken it all her life.

The woman turned back and smiled. "_You may call me Beothuk."_

The girl looked at the woman; she even had a pretty name._ "C-can I call you mama?"_

The woman looked a little taken aback by the question. Then she smiled warmly._ "If I can call you my Little One."_

The little girl smiled. "_Alright, mama." _She said.

Mama Beothuk held out her hand "_Come little one, walk with me_." And she took her hand and walked with her new Mama.

. . . . . .

Many years had passed since the little girl had met Mama Beothuk, and many generations had come and gone, when she felt a pull in her gut towards the mainland. She needed to go there, as soon as possible, but she had no idea why.

"Mama, I think I need to go across the sea, to the big land." She said.

Beothuk kneeled down "Why do you think that, Little One?" she asked.

"I feel a new people" As it slipped from her lips, Little One new it was true. There was a new people settling out there, and they had something to do with her.

The woman smiled sadly, placing her hand on top of Little One's head. "Then you must go, for if you don't, you will regret it forever." And she hugged her Little One tightly before sending her off to discover her fate, with tears sliding down her cheeks.

. . . . . .

On her travels, Little One, or Village as she came to be commonly known as, met many people. She spoke to them and stayed with them for a day before moving on. They all seemed to know who she was, and welcomed her into their village.

She would pick up their language quickly and speak to the people around her, telling them stories and in return they would share tales that had been passed down through their cultures.

Village loved to hear the peoples' stories; how the world came to be, how people should live, how the fish came to the sea. She loved the people she met, the houses, the animals and the forest too. She felt such love and joy when she wandered the lands that she didn't want to stop exploring them.

But still, something deep within her still called her away from the people, away from the stories. She followed the feeling to where the river narrowed, to where a strange people where gathered. They were pale, and some had light hair, yet they seemed familiar in a way. Village then looked at herself and realized that they looked like her.

She had golden hair that fell around her shoulders in messy locks, her skin was pale, and, though she didn't believe it, Mama had told her that her purple eyes could rival any sunrise.

She wandered over to the new people. Weaving in and out of them, they seemed not to notice her she wasn't sure what she was looking for until a man stopped in front of her and kneeled down to her eye level.

"ewiuhriuh nooiwurnak cxvwwqrexc?" he said.

The girl stared at him, in all her life she had never met someone she didn't understand at all. She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows, looking for answers in the man's blue eyes. None came, but the man realized that she didn't understand him when she didn't answer.

He put his hands on his chest, and spoke slowly and clearly, "Francis," he said.

Village nodded and did the same, speaking in the last language she had spoken. "_Kanata."_

Francis smiled at her and stood up. Village decided she liked the man; he was nice and made her feel safe.

As she looked around at the people, she felt somewhere deep inside her the emptiness lessen even more.

* * *

A/N: I'm acctually quite excited about this. :D not a very exciting first chapter but oh, well.

History Time~

I'll be brief. Sherlock is calling.

There's ruins of a Vicking settling in Newfoundland. That's Vinland.

The Beothuk people were the Native people of Newfoundland.

Quebec was the fisrt permanenet French settlement (besides Vinland). It was founded by an explorer, Samuel de Champlain, in 1608...I think...

That's all the history right now.

I find I right in a wierd, funky style; using he and she a lot and switching between names and such. I hope I don't confuse anyone.

And I am sort of working on _Staying,_ but I needed to get this out of my head.


	2. KanataAcadia

**Disclaimer:**I sadly do not own anything. if I did, Canada would be currently ruling the world with maple syrup and Timmies coffee.

* * *

Kanata decided to come back to see Francis and the new people again the next day, and every day after that. After a little while she picked up the language that they spoke, which they called _French,_ and learned they came from a place faraway called France, which was part of a bigger place called Europe.

Francis was at first surprised to see her, but smiled with understanding when she explained that she had been drawn there by a force that her Mama told her to follow.

"Are you like me?" she asked him one day as she climbed the tree he was sitting under.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked her, looking up.

"Do you feel people around you, and live a long time, and don't really get old, and call yourself the name of a place sometimes?" she said as she hung upside down.

Francis stood up and looked at her. "Yes. I am."

Village smiled lopsidedly, "Are there more of us?"

"Of course. Almost every country has one of us, and obviously some colonies do too." he answered, poking her playfully in the tummy.

She flipped off of the bough and asked. "So, who are you?"

Francis smiled. "I am France. And you are?"

Kanata looked slightly taken aback at this question. "I am Village." She tentatively said, the name not sounding quite right on her tongue.

Francis shook his head. "No, I don't think that name fits anymore. We should find you a new name, too, no? You also should have a human name. Shall we find one for you?"

Kanata's eye's widened. This would be the second time that someone had offered to give her a new name. She nodded, wanting to find a name that sounded right.

Francis looked her over in much the same way that Mama Beothuk had done so long ago. "hmm, well." He said.

"What?" she spun around to look at him, excited to find out her new name.

"You look like a….Mattea. Mattea is a pretty name, yes?"

She nodded. It sounded very pretty. "Which name will that be?"

Francis chuckled and patted the top of her head. "Your human name, dear." He looked around at their surroundings. "And officially we shall call you Acadia."

"Acadia…" she whispered, and smiled. It was perfect. " is also a pretty name." she finished.

The Frenchman scooped her up and placed her atop his shoulders. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

She giggled and hugged his head. "Thank you, Papa." She whispered into his hair so quietly she wasn't sure if he had heard her use his new name.

. . . . . .

What people called her depended on where Mattea went. She went by Acadia when she was with her Papa, and Rupert's Land when she saw the British man who kept thinking she was her brother.

Her brother would affectionately call her Matt or Mattie when they played, and she would inturn call him Al.

The bear whom she found, whose name started with Kuma, would simply asked her "who?" when she spoke to him. She loved him anyway.

She loved her names, the people who called her them, and the land she explored. She simply loved it.

. . . . . .

Francis saw the hurt and pain in her eyes, pleading for him to not let her go; to pick her up and take her away from the plains outside of his fortress. He turned away, not wanting to look at her any more than he had to, and almost whispered as softly as she spoke, "Take 'er." His voice was so close to cracking that he dared not say anything else.

His nation didn't want to have to take care of the colony anymore, and England had won. He knew it was for the best, but somewhere inside him he didn't want to have to see the little girl he had grown fond of clinging to his coat standing at England's side.

He heard her sniffle from behind him, whispering into his coat, "_Papa, don't worry. I love you." _And then she looked up, directly into his eyes and said, eyes springing with tears, "_I'll remember you, Papa." _before walking over to England on her own accord.

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him as she slid her tiny hand into his. "Hello" she said in English. He stared at her and then at Francis, who was walking away slowly.

"What about…" he trailed off.

"H-he lost. So are you my new Daddy?" she nodded to herself. "Daddy," she said, as if testing and confirming the new name in her mind. "Don't I have a brother?" she asked quietly.

Again, England stared at the tiny colony.

. . . . . .

She walked slowly into the room, careful not to make loud noises. As she stepped closer to her caregiver, she saw that he looked completely drained. She took a step closer to him.

"Daddy?" She asked softly.

He looked up from his thoughts, surprised to see someone in the room. He looked confused and hurt for a second before a soft smile spread over his features. "Yes, poppet?"

"Are-are you okay?"

England sighed. "Of course, poppet. Just… a little tiered."

Canada stood for a second, studying her father's face. She then crawled into his lap, placing her short legs horizontally across his lap and snuggling her head under her chin.

"Daddy," she said "Al isn't coming back, is he?"

Arthur sighed again and kissed the top of her head. "No, I don't think so, love."

She wrapped her arms around his chest and he hugged her back. "He asked me to come with him. He said that we could do it together, become independent from you… and that you were a big meanie."

He pulled away from her, sifting to look at her face. He didn't want to hear her say that she was leaving too; the loss would be too much for him. He didn't breath until she spoke again.

"I didn't go, though. I'm here, Dad. I won't leave you all alone." Her voice was soft and soothing as she nuzzled her head back under his chin and squeezed him. "I won't go away."

He smiled. "I know you won't, poppet. I know you won't"

"I don't think you're a big meanie either." She added quickly as she yawned widely.

He smiled and sighed. "It's been a long day for both of us. How about we get you to sleep?" Arthur asked.

Mattea smiled softly and nodded as she wrapped her arms around his neck so he would carry her up to bed.

* * *

A/N:

Canada, she's got _names._

When she's talking to Francis and it isn't in italics, they're still speaking French. I was just lazy. sorry. :3

ugh, this took too long. I had to edit it all because I'm writting it out of order with lots of random plot bunnies in the way. sooooo, yeah. SO MANY PLOT BUNNIES. WHY ARE YOU INVADING MY BRAIN? seriously. this is a hodge-podge mess on my computer. I have one master and then copy/paste what I want the chapters to be. and I have to shuffle what I want in it and what's relavent and stuff.

history:

Acadia-french.

Rupert's land- British.

Kumajiro-Awesome.

Kanata-Supposedly how Canada got it's name. Village in the language of the First Nations group who talked to that french guy. I think it was him.

(yay for sick writers and lazy history.)

If I messed something up in the story or history or whatever, let me know. I'll be happy to fix it!

p.s. to anyone who cares, School has been a pain, so I try to work on this and Staying, but an essay on Nellie Mcclung is just so annoying. I apologize in advance for the long update times and short-ish chapters.

Anyhoo, enjoy! and don't forget to review. because they make me feel loved. (and gives me a crazy ego boost XD)


	3. BNA!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. only the plot bunnies.

**Warnings: **a swear. one. and...FEELS (maybe.)

* * *

Arthur handed her the document, his face solemn. This was not news he wanted to give to the young colony, but he honestly didn't know how to give it to her. He had decided that letting her read it herself would be the best course of action; even if it meant her heart would shatter, she had to learn read those kinds of things herself if she ever wanted to be…less dependent.

He watched her as her face slowly fell and her brows creased as she read through the document. She looked up at him, eyes searching for answers he didn't have. "Is Alfred really doing this? He's really going to try to annex British North America? Take me away?" she asked in a whisper.

The old nation nodded. "Yes. He is, and I'm not sure how much support I can give, fighting France and all."

Canada looked down and nodded. "So you aren't going to be here." It wasn't a question.

Arthur put his hand on her shoulder, "No poppet. I'm sorry…" he really didn't know what to say.

"No, I'm sorry." Her voice hardening as she folded the paper up neatly. "I won't let him do this. Even if you can't be here, I'll find a way to stop him."

Arthur stared at Mattea's suddenly stern expression. "Now, Mattea…"

She glared at him, and he shivered. That was a look that his colony rarely used. It was the look she got when she was dead serious and wouldn't budge. He realized that she was…_angry._

"England. This is _my _land, _my _people, _my _cultures," Her soft voice rose so that she was almost yelling. "My _home_! I am not going to let America take them away!"

England paused for a moment, as Mattea breathed slowly, calming herself down. He was not shocked that she planned to defend herself; the majority of the world would at the declaration of war over their land, but it was the fact that she had referred to her brother as _America, _not Alfred or Al. Arthur was sure that that had never happened before, she was familiar with him and showed her affection in the nicknames she gave. He had a bad feeling that her using his country name meant, and what this war would do to her.

"Mattea," he was going to test her, to see if she had really done what he thought she had. "Your brother is-"

She cut him off quickly, shaking her head. "The United States of America is _not_ my brother. He terminated that relationship when he declared war on Britain over British North America. We are simply neighbours, nothing more."

Arthur sighed. It was going to be a long war.

. . . . . .

"Matt? Is that you?" Alfred was shocked to see what looked like his sister adorned in a full English military combat uniform, pinning his arms down, and pointing the barrel of a gun at his head. Needless to say, it was slightly out of character for her. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I'm fighting a war, America." She snarled through gritted teeth as she shoved the gun against his head.

"B-but, I'm fighting the British… where's Arthur?"

Mattea glared at him. "You are trying to annex British _North America._ You have invaded, or attempted to, Upper and Lower _Canada._ America, I don't know if you haven't noticed, but a whole lot of people call me Canada. Or B.N.A. officially."

"B-but…What?"

She glared at him, piercing his skin with a look that Alfred had never thought possible on his sweet sister's face. Her voice was cold and calm as she spoke slowly through gritted teeth, a snarl painting her face. "I am not going to let you annex me, Alfred. I will show you that when you try to push me around, I will push you back."

Mattea spoke incredibly fast, her voice hard and stern, but still no more than a whisper. "I am not going to roll over and let you take whatever the hell you want, and I will not let _anyone_ try to take my people away from me."

"I'm not fighting 'for king and country'; I'm fighting for me; to prevent you from taking what is _mine_." She pushed the barrel harder into the side of his head as she spoke.

Mattea suddenly looked up, but did not relinquish the hold she had on Alfred. "What is it, Kumajima?" She asked something behind her. Alfred craned his neck to see the tip of something white and furry. _Her bear,_ he thought.

Kumajiro shook his head and said, "Not now…"

She stared at the polar bear for a moment before blinking and turning back to Alfred. And, leaning in closer, she whispered right next to his ear "Don't fuck with me… _Brother."_ Before releasing him and following her bear into the woods. The venom in her words stung Alfred more than anything England had ever attempted to do to him.

. . . . . . .

A man tapped her shoulder as she closed the door to the meeting room.

"Excuse me, miss, but may I ask who you are? I saw you in there and I do not know what you were doing as part of the peace talks." The man asked; looking slightly annoyed that a stranger had been part of the meeting.

Mattea smiled sweetly at the man. She had noticed that most people other than her own really didn't remember her unless she was shoving a gun down their throat.

"I am the representative of British North America."

The man sniffed. "What a state things are in over there, if they are sending a woman to delegate peace. A man would be much more suited."

Her eye twitched. She did not like when someone insulted her gender; it was out of her control and the rest of the world should just accept it. "I'm sorry. I do not think you understood me. I _am_ British North America, or Upper and Lower Canada. I am similar to the ones you call England and America; the ones in that room." She nodded towards the doors.

The man crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. "I still do not see your significance at the meeting. The war was between the United States and Britain. There was no need for you to be there."

"If you weren't aware, the war that was going on was over my land and people. I fought in it, just like Alfred." The man was starting to get on Mattea's nerves.

"I never! A woman has no place on the battlefield! A solider is a man's job." The man smirked at her and adjusted his jacket. No matter how patient she was, this man was blatantly insulting her and she wasn't going to stand there and take it.

Mattea's eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to him, her demeanor suddenly serious and daunting. "I fought my brother in this damn war and I'm sorry to say I think I may have scared the holy snot out of him. So please," her voice got dangerously quiet as she grabbed the taller man's collar, "do not insult me, my land, or my people again or I will teach you that men are, indeed, the weaker gender."

She stepped back and smiled again as the man gaped at her. "Thank you. Now if you don't mind, I need to make sure my father hasn't murdered Alfred. He doesn't remember me much, but when he does, he gets rather protective of his little colony."

Mattea spun on her heel and walked towards the door, leaving the man to straighten his coat and wonder who the hell that B.N.A. girl was.

* * *

A/N:

A full 1812 chapter. whhhyyyyyy?D: whydoikeepwritingwarof1812.I need to stop.  
Wouldn't you swear if you're _brother_ decided 'oh, yeah. All this shiz that is yours...IT'S MIIIINE.' nopenopenope.  
Who is this jerk-man? who? idontknow, and I wrote this shiz. (ha, I linked it to my other fic. Matt knows what's up, she just doesn't show it.)Don't mess with Canada. It won't end well for youuuuu.

History:

War of 1812. America: "IMMA GUNNA TAKE OVER ALL OF NORTH AMERICA!" Canada: "Hell, no. You're not gunna Annex me." Britain: "FRANCE, YOU PRICK! Oh, yeah. Go, go Canada." (for this to have full affect, must disect into silables. Ca-na-da. as in: go, go Griffindore!) and the epic sibling battle ensued. 'Mericans burned stuff, Canadians burned stuff, and Brits fought France, like they were constantly doing anyway. (oh, that sexual tension:3) Canada thinks they won, America thinks they won, Britain really doesn't give half a banana.

if I messed up, which I'm sure I did, let me know. I shall fix it.

make me feel loved annnnddd...REVIEW! :D


	4. CountryandPrairies

"Mama," she whispered. The old woman lying on the cot only vaguely resembled the tall, dark, and beautiful woman who had saved her all those years ago.

The woman gestured for Mattea to lean closer as she whispered, "_Yes, little one." _She spoke in a tongue Mattea hadn't used for centuries, but she could still understand the words. "_You have done well. I am glad you have not met the same fate I face, little one."_

Tears rolled down her face as she quietly sobbed into her Mother's sheets. "Mama," she gasped in English. "Mama, I'm so sorry. So, so, sorry. I don't want to lose you…"

The woman smiled. "_No, child_," Her voice rasped "_don't be sorry. You have grown into a fine young woman and made me so, so proud. Little one, I have no doubt you will keep on growing to become a wonderful Nation."_ Tears began to slide down the woman's cheeks, as she raised her hand to cup Mattea's face "_Little one, my Little One." _She whispered as she faded away into a warm breeze that came through the window.

"Mama," Mattea whispered, "please don't go... I'll miss you too much…" she sobbed into the empty sheets. "Mama, I promise I'll remember you…I promise."

. . . . . .

She sat in the room, observing everything that was happening with a smile on her face.

Mattea wasn't exactly part of the proceedings, but she wasn't excluded from them either. She was just too excited to focus for very long, so looked around the tiny room, sat beside her father and watched as they drew up the document, or just paced about, waiting.

'_This must be how Alfred felt, waiting. Waiting.'_ she thought, the indescribable feeling of being so close to officially being called a _country _almost boiling over, making it very hard to not smile and keep a straight face

"Alright, that looks right." Arthur finally said.

Her heart fluttered. She spun on her heel to face him, eyes like an owl's. "It's ready?" she whispered.

He smiled and placed his hand on top her head. "Yes. Happy birthday, poppet."

She grinned and threw her arms around Arthur's waist and hugged tight, a slight giggle escaping her lips. "Thank you! I can't wait to tell Al!" she called as she skipped down the hall. "The Dominion of _Canada._" She smiled. It was perfect.

. . . . . .

Alfred leaned into the horse, urging it to go faster. He looked over to where his sister was riding beside him, blonde hair flying freely, like the horses' manes in the wind, and smiled. She had omitted wearing a skirt because they were "impractical for riding. Honestly, you should try doing anything physical in a long, heavy dress, see how you like it." and was wearing trousers that looked as though they had come out of a coal bin.

His sister had a way of doing what she wanted to in the most absurd way possible. But, he supposed that made her even more mysterious than she already was.

Feeling her brother's eyes on her, Mattea glanced over and flashed a cheeky smile. She pulled back on the reins, slowing the galloping horse to a trot and Alfred did the same. "So, how is life in the south, Al?"

He chuckled. "Sort of dull, actually. How about you? Expanding, aren't ya?"

"Ha. I guess you could call it that. A little bit."

"Building a railway across the continent is not 'little', Matt."

She laughed. Alfred could always make her laugh. "Well, yeah. But, I don't know… I don't think many people will come?" she really wasn't.

"How come?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I think it's the weather. My warmest is your coldest, Al, not including the Maritimes, but still. Most people can't handle the winters here." She sighed.

"Then you'll have enough land for all who come, and a sense of unity in the winter, Sis! Believe me, once they come, people won't want to leave."

"Really?"

Alfred nodded.

She smiled. "Thanks, Al."

A/N: *facedesk* I'm so sorry, this is late. Soooo late. Forgive the lateness and shortness. Please. I wanted to write some prairie. I'm a cowtown girl. AND PROUD. Don't dis them cowfolk. Anyhoo…not my most historically accurate chapter, but whatever.

History:

The Beothuk were the Native people of Newfoundland. They went extinct after contact with Europeans. Their food supplies went wonky, they caught diseases, and they clashed with European fishermen. The last Beothuk died in 1827. (I think)

The BNA act was actually not really a big deal at the time. It was just sorta like, "oh yeah. Canada's a country now. That's cool." Although now we're all just "YEAHHHHH! CANADA DAYYYYY!" (Canadians try really hard to show their patriotism 'cause they don't want to be mistaken as 'those other North Americans'.) (what?) XD we are a proud country though. Look up 'Canadian Girls' by dean brody. It shall make you feel nice.

The CPR is how Canada got B.C. yup.

The End of long boring A/N

REVIEW!pleasepleaseplease.


End file.
